Next to nothing

I've had a day of doing next to nothing. I woke up supremely early and forced myself to go back to sleep again. I think I must have had another complete cycle of sleep because it was suddenly 10.30am.

I would love to say I did lots of useful stuff, but actually I sat on the sofa and watched telly, went to the cafe and ate lunch, and then came home and watched telly again.

The only useful thing I did was turn all the lights off at 8.30pm for Earth Hour. If I can't be useful in any other way, I can try to save the world a bit. I sent out a few Facebook messages telling people to turn their lights off. My mate Jo obliged even though she was in the process of dying her hair! I worry that she switched the lights back on an hour later to find her hair had gone green or something! Philippa turned off an electric piano and a fan. I guess it's a start!

I turned the telly on at 9.30 and caught a trailer for the Jonathan Ross show which informed me that my old pal Luke Evans was being interviewed. He was in the original cast of Taboo, so we worked together for at least a year. I still have photos of him at one of the insane and outrageous parties we used to have at Fortess Road in Tufnell Park. He was a wonderful singer back then but I would never have predicted he'd become a screen actor. He was just a kid in those days, whom I thought would do brilliantly in musical theatre. I was wrong. He's now a mega Hollywood film star. I watched the interview proudly. He's developed a steeliness and an element of mystery which I'm sure translates wonderfully to the screen. I also thought he came across as very charming. Some of the people I knew before they were famous have become parodies of themselves: puffed up and arrogant. I was pleased to see this hasn't happened to Luke. Good for him.

In an almost staggering secondary twist of the knife, following my discovery that a new musical has been commissioned about the Leeds Pals, I now discover that the West Yorkshire Playhouse has commissioned a play about, you guessed it, the Barnbow Lassies! I guess imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and all that. I don't have the copyright on the story. The Barnbow Lassies were real people who are remembered fondly by the people of Leeds, so why shouldn't someone else write about them? Someone else would be welcome to make a musical about the student uprising in Paris... I just hope no one tries to use my Barnbow Lassies song under the false illusion that it's a traditional tune. That would be highly unfortunate!